Pomp & Circumstance
by singingstarryknights
Summary: For the record, he didn’t want to be there. For the record, she made him go. PreSandle.


Pomp & Circumstance

…

For the record, he didn't want to be there. For the record, she made him go.

…

PreSandle.

…

"Stop squirming."

"I look like a penguin. This is ridiculous."

"You look amazing. Don't touch it." Sara swatted Greg's hand away from the pristinely tailored pleat of thin black material of his graduation robe as she straightened his tie.

"What are you, my mother?"

"Don't make me lick my thumb and flatten your hair."

"But Sara. Wouldn't you rather be sleeping, instead of sitting through a boring commencement?"

"Hey! You worked hard for this. You should enjoy it."

"I'd _like_ to enjoy a beer and a stupid movie and a nap on the couch after the shift we pulled last night." She tried to look stern, but she couldn't have agreed more. He reasoned further. "This is a waste of valuable time off."

"Greg." There was a warning in her tone, but he waved her off dismissively.

"They won't even miss me."

"There are only fourteen grad students in your program, Gregory. Your absence would be hardly overlooked." She laughed, sweeping an eye over his general appearance, now that she had gotten him to come to the hall, dress up, put on the robe. He cleaned up remarkably well; she had forgotten that, he hadn't been to testify for evidence since making the transition from the DNA lab. "Have I told you how attractive you look in black?" She grinned as he cocked an eyebrow at her.

"I think the lilac hood accentuates my masculinity." He failed miserably at maintaining a straight face, eliciting an amused smile from her, as he twirled in a jovial manner, giving her three hundred and sixty degrees of his get-up, showcasing the elegantly draped Master's hood, lined with a sophisticatedly marginal few inches of decidedly feminine pastel violet, indicative of his expertise in 'Organic and Material Chemistry.' The dull shine of the satin inside of his hood glittered briefly in the Nevada sunshine, making her smile. His sleeves widened, framing his hands immaculately, allowing for the wrists of his white oxford shirt to show only just. This was Greg. Her Greg. All grown up.

"Get your ass in line." She glanced around at the other graduates in Greg's class, some of which had begun to assemble in what had started to look like a processional. He rolled his eyes at her, and sighed, not wanting to leave her side.

"You're not going to strand me here, right?"

"No, of course not." She teared as he pulled her into a companionable hug, her vision blurring gently as he tightened his grip briefly. "And yes, for the record, you didn't want to come, and yes, for the record, I made you do it." He laughed, tucking his cap under his arm, and pressing a kiss to her cheek quickly.

"Thank you. For being here." His features sobered only just, and he smiled softly. He knew she only made him get dressed up and come to commencement because he wouldn't have gone otherwise. She nodded, smoothing a crease in his robe.

"I'll see you after." She leaned up, and brushed her lips against his softly before tossing him a smile and making her way to the doorway of the Concert Hall at UNLV. He watched her disappear into the crowd of the several dozen spectators filing into the seats before the stage.

"Who was _that_, Sanders?" Greg turned smearing an amused smile across his features as Jonah Cahill, the gangly, awkward chemistry teacher at Dirado High, nodded towards where Sara had entered the hall. "Your wife? Girlfriend?"

"Yeah, I wish. Coworker, actually." Greg laughed, for the first time since he had picked up his cap and gown, having second thoughts about the stylistic adjustments he had made to the mortarboard of his cap. Someday, maybe they would be more. Maybe they already were.

"Pretty good set of legs. Nice ass. Cute smile."

"It's a wonder to me why you're still single, man." Jonah grinned awkwardly at Greg's deadpan, and tipped his mortarboard as if it was a fedora.

"She'd want me."

"You're not exactly her type, I'm afraid." Greg chuckled, following the taller man as the Marshals collected the chemistry grad students into the processional.

"Right. Schoolteachers don't usually pack heat like CSIs." He paused, adjusting his pleats and his tie meticulously. "I guess the badge is a lot sexier than the School ID."

"You need to get laid, my friend." Greg slipped the loose elastic of the cap into place, adjusting the tassle to one side, and securing the mortarboard on his head, tilting it back only just. "Let's do this."

Moments later, Sara smiled, entertained as she spotted Greg filtering into the repetitive fanfare of 'Pomp & Circumstance.' She watched as he scanned the audience, breaking out into a childish grin when he caught sight of her several yards away, halfway up the gentle slope of the auditorium.

He was suddenly thankful that Nick and Catherine hadn't been able to come, having caught a hot lead in their case. He watched the corner of her mouth curl into a friendly smirk, and he sighed. It was worth dressing up and wasting his time off if it made her smile like that. He was hopeless when it came to that particular expression. Jonah primly took his seat beside Greg's assigned chair, and Greg quietly took his seat between him and Gretchen, the pretty woman who ran a research team for a cosmetics company in North Vegas. He focused his attention on the portly Dr. Hadley that had taken up the podium, beginning the ceremony.

Midway up the slope of the audience seats, Sara squinted, rereading the words constructed from bits of masking tape on Greg's cap, blinking away the blur of the tears in her eyes. Beside her, somebody's elderly grandmother sighed happily, and started to hit Sara's arm, lightly.

"Look at that." She pointed to Greg's mortarboard, smiling broadly. "I wonder what it says."

For a brief second, the words disappeared as Greg twisted in his chair to whisper some sort of witty retort, making the guy sitting next to him laugh, before the flat of his mortarboard came back into view. The masking tape words became clearly visible again in the bleak artificial lighting of the auditorium, disjointedly spelling out his appreciation of her mentoring in the months between his leaving of the DNA lab, and his earning the level one position in the Department.

'med hensyn til du'

Sara smiled, and settled against the back of her chair. In the months he had spent working so close to Greg, she hadn't turned a completely deaf ear to his impromptu Norwegian vocabulary lessons, mostly in the Denali, en route to middle-of-nowhere cases, or in the break room, waiting around for results.

"It means 'because of you.' It's Norwegian." The older woman nodded, glancing from Sara to the flat of Greg's cap, amused at the tear rolling down Sara's cheek.

"Your husband?" Sara shook her head. No. He was really just some guy she worked with. Was he really, though? No. Greg was more than that. He would always be more, even if she didn't want him to be. Even if she couldn't quite square with what exactly 'more' entailed.

"No, just a friend." Maybe someday she'd be able to answer that question with a yes. Someday.

"Ah. Just a friend." The elderly woman chuckled softly. "We used to call that love, you know." Sara smiled softly, wiping a tear from her eye.

"Someday we'll call it that, too."

………

A/N: all this thinking about graduation…. Ick. And it's only 247 days away. :cringe: For the record, I don't want to go, and for the record, my mother is _making_ me. Lol. Spurred from a conversation with my mom.


End file.
